Kindling of the Vanities

June 4, 2009

After two decades of everyone telling me what a great book it is, I'm finally reading Bonfire of the Vanities. I don't know why I've never read it before — especially since I've read several of Tom Wolfe's other books. It didn't help when the book was turned into a colossal flop of a movie, although I never saw the movie, either. But all that is neither here nor there. I'm reading it now.

"That's a great book," said Brian. "I love when that dickhead lawyer has a piece of styrofoam popcorn on his expensive suit—"

"I haven't gotten there yet."

"It's fucking hilarious, he's wearing this—"

"I haven't gotten there yet! Don't ruin it."

"Honestly, I'm not sure I even read the whole book," Brian said. "It was serialized in Rolling Stone, and that might be all I read."

"I doubt you read it all, then. It's a million-page monster of a book."

(I've since learned that the serialized version does, in fact, differ quite a bit from the book itself.)

"Tom Wolfe came to RISD when we were there," said Brian. "I fucking missed it. I was probably sleeping. I can't believe I didn't see him."

"Yeah, I remember that. I went, but I can't remember much about it. I just remember what he was wearing."

"He's a dandy."

"That's right. I remember the buttons at the cuffs of his suit actually worked. I don't remember if he spoke about that or not, but he must've. How else would I know that? Buttons that weren't just sewn on for show, that actually worked. I was too young and dumb to even know there was such a thing. It made a real impression on me. Funny. I can't remember anything else about the lecture, that's it."

Published in 1987, the book captures a definitive time and place — New York City in the 1980s, but despite everything that's happened since then — a couple of commercial jet airplanes exploding into The World Trade Center, countless scandals, several stock market crashes, several riots, et cetera and so on — there are characters and themes in the book that are still so au currant that, it's impossible to read without relating the story to the present day players of current events.

Just a little bit of history repeating.

And repeating.

I was interviewed man-on-the-street-style by a reporter for the New York Daily News yesterday. A short, muscular redhead with a tattooed neck, it took a little effort for him to get me to stop. I figured he was going to ask me to contribute money or sign a petition. "Can you spare a minute for gay rights?" I imagined him saying. Or, "Do you have a minute to save the environment?" that kind of thing.

He flipped to a clean page in his spiral-bound notepad and asked me if I lived in the neighborhood.

"No," I said. I figured he was looking for residents to petition either for or against some local cause, and that by saying no, I'd disqualify myself from whatever it was he wanted me to sign. But he followed alongside as I walked, finally establishing that he was a reporter and was simply looking for my reaction to the new High Line Park that's set to open on Monday.

The High Line Park is a new park developed on an old elevated rail line on the west side of Manhattan. The city has been working on it for years.

"What do you think of the park?" the reporter asked.

"I didn't know it had finally opened."

"It hasn't. It opens on Monday. But you've heard about it, right?"

"Yeah, sure. I've seen pictures."

"What do you think about it?"

"I think it's fucking great."

"Yeah?"

"Sure, why not? What else is that old rail line doing up there?"

"Do you think it's worth all the money they've spent on it?"

"How much did they spend?"

"I don't have an exact figure, but millions."

"Yeah, well, the city spends money on all kinds of garbage."

In this day and age of trillion-dollar deficits and billion-dollar bailouts, a few million dollars sounds like chump change. In any case, it seems like a fair budget for a little more public greenery in the concrete jungle. Better than another high-rise luxury hotel at any rate.

"What do you think it looks like?" the reporter asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I think a lot of people are expecting a well-manicured park. It's actually pretty rough. There are lots of weeds and stuff. You can still see the old tracks."

"Good," I said. "It's better that way. Makes you feel like you're discovering some cool old forgotten piece of old New York—"

"I guess, yeah."

"—that you can explore without getting arrested. Which takes some of the fun out of it, I suppose, but at least it doesn't take all the fun out of it."

We started to veer away from the park, which was as far as he cared to follow. He thanked me and shook my hand. "I got some good stuff," he said.

When I got back to work, I sent Deborah a text message and told her I'd been interviewed by the Daily News.

"Wow," she said, "You're a real New Yorker."

"I know, right? New York's hometown paper!"

"I hope they don't misquote you."

"Don't be silly. Of course they will."